


Mornings After

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8545261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: There's not always a perfectly 'happy' ending...





	

“Sir… are you alright?”   


Hux frowns. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Does he look ill? Has he put his clothing on without his usual care? Can people tell? Has he referred to Ren in–

“You didn’t sit down for the whole briefing. Is your… chair broken?”  


Fuck. Fuck. “Yes.” Perfect lie, trust Mitaka. “I called Maintenance.” He has not. “Please chase them up. It is distracting.”

It is not at _all_ that Kylo Ren’s Ridiculous Cock has made him convinced the slightest breath held too long will gust out of his spread-wide and tender-pink ass with a victory-fart to the Imperial March. 

“Right away, General.”  


Maintenance will first curse under their breath that there was no such earlier summons, and on finding the chair with just an arm broken off (once Mitaka leaves the room) wonder why the General needs it fixing anyway.

Walking meetings for the rest of the day.

***

“Master?”  


“I’m observing,” Kylo says.   


“We finished training ten minutes ago,” says the closest Knight.  


“I was observing your patience.”  


“…by snoring?”  


“ _It was a test.”_ Shit. He fell asleep in his own mask, didn’t he? _Again_. He’d been up all night, and when you put the mask on, you couldn’t drink rocket-fuel caf any more.   


Sometimes the nice, warm dojo is good for a nice, warm nap. Until people find you there and expect you to _work_.

“…did we pass?”  


“No,” he snaps. “Do it again.”  


***

“Where am I supposed to keep this one?” Hux asks, waving around a four-tentacled dildo, with each appendage independently whirling and coiling and attempting to milk shafts that aren’t there, or pulse inside holes that aren’t ready.   


“With the others?”  


“Kylo, we _don’t have any more room_.”  


“Keep it in your ass, with the rod.”   


“Kylo, my Dark Desire, I’ll put it up your ass if you buy another one. We _have_ to throw some out!”  


“They have sentimental value!”  


“ _YOUR HUSBAND HAS SENTIMENTAL VALUE, YOUR VIBRATOR HAS POWER CELLS_.”  


***

“I’m not doing it.”  


“Kylo…”  


“I’m sorry. I’ll strap you down and interrogate you all you want, but if you breathe my grandfather’s name like _that_ when you’re naked, we’re getting a divorce.”  


“I thought you loved Darth Vader.”  


“LIKE A GRANDFATHER.”  


“…fine. What about members of the Imperial hierarchy?”  


***

“I expect my most elevated and trusted servants to act befitting their rank.”  


“I always do, Supreme Leader.” Hux glares up, seditious and disgruntled.  


“You referred to Lord Ren as ‘dear’.”  


“…I’m sorry, I’ll call him Lord Asshole in future?”  


“DO YOU WANT TO GET LAID THIS WEEK?” Kylo screeches.  


Snoke smacks his hand into his face. “Do not make me instigate rules about fraternisation.”

“I take it back, he isn’t ‘dear’,” Hux says. “He’s a moron.”  


***

“Kylo.”  


“Mnnf.”  


“Kylo.”  


“Mmmnnf?”  


“I love you, but I have a cramp in my leg.”  


“…now?”  


“No, three weeks from now… yes, now! Would you please - look I don’t bend like that and – AUGH NOW I WON’T GET IT UP ALL NIGHT. YOU WEIGH TOO MUCH. GET OFF ME.”

***

“Out.”  


“What?”  


“Out of bed.”  


“Hux… I haven’t even got my breath yet.”  


“The sheets are sticky.”  


“You fucked me into them, what were you expecting?”  


“Out. Shower. Laundry.”  


“I’ll sleep in the damp patch.”  


“IN YOUR OWN DAMN BED YOU HEATHEN GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BED BEFORE I HOSE IT ALL DOWN.”  


“…and they say romance is dead,” the Knight says, and smears come all over Hux’s face.  


Hux. Screams.


End file.
